Page 121 of The Kingdom of Flames

The Lords murmured among themselves. She looked at Aidric, and he nodded.

“Take this news to the people of the Painted Realm,” Blackdawn declared.

“The Blue Banner should be second in order, my lords. For he is quickness and peace; he is the sky and the wind of summer and freedom.”

She smiled at Azure, who watched her with his brown eyes.

“The last should be Lord Solis, in the realm of Yellow. For he is the love that binds, and though he has freed his people and outlawed the bondage of flesh, it is a terrible sin. Yellow is the embrace of summer, and all lovers are bound to one another, whether loosely…” she turned and looked at Tristien. “Or close enough to be one. It is a choice.”

“So no husband has been selected?” Lord Cedarheart growled from his throne of pelts.

The horned lord, like a bull, of the Bronze Banner growled. “She gives the order of the banners within their own season?”

“As she should,” Blackdawn said. When he spoke, his voice was sorcery and shadow. It cowed the great bull-lord. “None of the Lords of Summer shall select the placement of the Season.”

Celestine glanced back to Encarmine, who looked upon her with sadness.

It would have been you had your very essence not promised a Summer of Widows upon my people.

When she looked upon Tristien. It would have been you, for I craved you in a way that threatened everything. I nearly became nothing.

Upon Lord Azure, she looked.

It would have been you, but you cannot marry the wind nor cage the flying hawk in truth. It wasn’t what you were.

She turned back to court.

“The courtship continues.”

Celestine stepped back down the dais to stand next to Aidric.

“Champions,” Blackdawn said from his black banner.

Only three rose this time.

Lord Emberfell of the Amber Banner, clothed in leather and linen, his throne a gourd and cornucopia of harvest.

Lord Vermilion, sneering and fangs flashing, his knives dripping with blood as he stood.

This time, Blackdawn nodded to the Lord of White. The Winter Lord rose, and Celestine was taken aback by their form. So slight compared to the mass of the other lords. A helm of white metal, in the shape of a hawk covered their face.

“Lord Frost will be our Champion of Winter,” Blackdawn declared.

Lord Frost walked forward, every movement cold, the ground beneath their feet crinkling with snow and frost.

“Come cold-thing,” Vermilion spat upon the ground where the snow collected around Frost. “Let us paint your court red, before I take the Unbannered.”

Frost stared at Celestine in a white helm. Their throne was snow and ice.

Before anything could even begin, Lord Frost dipped out with their short spear, striking Vermilion through the sternum with a barbed hook. Lord Emberfell did the same, a long curved carving scythe slamming into the collarbone of the Scarlet Lord.

They both surged forward as the Scarlet Lord screamed, first blood drawn. An agreement between the two of them as they threw him at the foot of his throne.

“You overstepped your bounds,” Frost said with icy finality.

Emberfell smiled, his amber leathers creaking. “You rushed to the henhouse, Vermilion. We all agreed to wait our turn.”

Both lords withdrew their weapons and left Vermilion bleeding at the foot of his throne. He pushed himself up, furious, and stalked from the room, past Celestine where Aidric moved to stand in front of her, but he pushed past with a snarl of contempt.

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